


Every Good Deed

by literaryspell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-03
Updated: 2009-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryspell/pseuds/literaryspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finds fault with Draco's behaviour, and both boys learn that even good deeds must be punished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Good Deed

**Author's Note:**

> **Betas:** rainien, Krystle Lynne, kazfeist

Harry glared at Draco from across the Great Hall.

The slut was absolutely fucking shameless.

Stomach roiling, Harry watched with barely suppressed rage as Pansy Parkinson wrapped Draco’s cornsilk hair between her fingers, pressing her stupid tits against his arm and laughing _right in his ear._

And what was Draco doing? _His_ Draco?

Laughing. Right. Back.

Unbefuckinglievable.

Harry stole the essay Hermione was working on and tore a strip off the bottom, ignoring her cry of dismay. Harry knew she’d planned on rewriting the thing, anyway. Sacrifices had to be made.

She offered her quill before he could snatch it, and he gave her a half-chagrined, half-grim smile as he hastily jotted a few words on the parchment.

Pansy’s shrill laughter assaulted him and he over-punctuated, making Hermione’s quill stab through the paper into the heavily scarred wood beneath. He pried it out and gave it back before rising, a determined look on his features.

He was only marginally aware of the eyes of nearly everyone in the room. After defeating Voldemort, Harry experienced a strange mixture of being wanted and being feared, and he rather enjoyed the niche.

He stalked up the Slytherin table, eyes on a white-blond head, so focused that everything else faded from his sight, his world becoming this halo of gold, this sun around which he orbited.

Pansy thankfully kept her trap shut as Harry approached. She watched with wide eyes as he stalked ever nearer, and Draco followed her gaze. A smile started to erupt on Draco’s pointed, ferrety, fucking perfect face, but it faded quickly when Harry slammed the note down on the table before Draco, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring.

Draco frowned and picked up the note. He began to look at it, but Harry shook his head sharply. Draco nodded his understanding, and Harry left the Great Hall.

He knew, like he knew everything about Draco, that the blond would wait about ten minutes until the furor died down. Then he would make a graceful exit and read the note in private.

 _Punishment position. 10:00pm._

And Draco would squirm and wonder for the rest of the day.

In his room, Harry wanked viciously, thinking of exactly how he planned to prove to Draco that he was _owned_ and would not be shared. Harry’s climax was unsatisfactory, and he waved away the evidence with an angrily wielded wand.

Fucking Draco.

  
Harry didn’t bother showing up in Draco’s Head Boy’s room until nearly eleven. It wasn’t punishment if Draco didn’t have to stand there and think about what he’d done wrong.

“Good boy,” he drawled smoothly when he easily entered the private room. He was very pleased.

Draco was standing, facing the foot of the bed, his wrists tied to two of the bedposts. It was a tricky position to get into, they’d both learned: Draco had to tie one wrist manually, put his wand into the tied hand, spell the other hand tied with _Incarcerous,_ and then drop his wand onto the bed.

It was all about trust. Draco knew Harry would never leave him like that, but he couldn’t free himself without Harry.

It had taken them a long time to get there.

Without warning, Harry raised his hand and laid a hard smack against Draco’s naked arse. His body lurched forward, and he cried out at the unexpected blow.

Harry watched, pleased, as Draco’s impressionable skin flared white and then red, settling into an outline of his hand. Lovely.

Another blow, and another, and soon Draco’s behind was mottled, light bruising rising in the places Harry had hit repeatedly. Draco’s soft cries turned to whines, and it wasn’t long before he began arching into the slaps instead of away from them. Both were panting with exertion and need when Harry told Draco to spread his legs and then delivered the final swat to the crack of his arse, fingers colliding with Draco’s hole.

“Now, what have you learned?” Harry asked condescendingly, gentle fingers acting contrarily to his tone.

“I-I don’t know what I did wrong, sir,” Draco said quietly, his first comprehensible words since Harry had entered the room—that was the rule, after all. No speaking unless spoken to when punishment was being meted out.

“Oh,” Harry said softly. He pinched a bruise on Draco’s marred flesh, making him jerk away. “I think you do, love.”

“Harry, sir, please. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For… for making you angry.”

Oh, yes, Draco thought he was quite clever. “Why am I angry, Draco?”

Draco’s hands clenched and unclenched. He took a few deep breaths. Harry stayed behind him, out of sight, not touching him.

Finally, Draco broke. “Because I was trying to make you jealous by flirting with Pansy.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he was glad Draco couldn’t see his face, for he was certain his expression was comical.

“Why would you try to make me jealous?” Harry asked, confused. He’d thought maybe Draco wanted to end their arrangement, to pursue something more traditional, to leave him. Harry’s anger had been hiding his fear that Draco didn’t want him anymore.

“Because, Harry,” Draco began in a snooty, exasperated tone, “I wanted you to see me as more than… than _this_.” Draco tugged on the ropes for emphasis. Harry immediately released him, catching Draco when he stumbled from the abrupt freedom. He turned Draco in his arms, holding him loosely in case he needed to bolt. Draco was like a wild animal sometimes, but Harry didn’t want to tame him.

“You don’t like what we do?” Harry asked softly, brushing Draco’s hair from his damp forehead, trying to ignore the arousal on both sides of his trousers.

“I love what we do together, Harry. I swear. But I want to be only yours. I want everyone to know. I want to go public, and I want to be exclusive. I’ll be a good boyfriend, you know. Fuck, I’ll be the best. Just give us a chance.”

“Gods, Draco,” Harry said, amazed. It was all he wanted but hadn’t dared to expect. He couldn’t help but try to devour Draco with his mouth. He always tasted so sweet after a punishment.

Pushing him back onto the bed, Harry relished Draco’s wince when his backside came into contact with the coverlet.

“You say you wanted to make me jealous,” Harry said musingly, reaching for the lubrication and moving between Draco’s parted thighs, “but I think maybe you wanted to be punished.”

The punishment continued when Harry thrust two fingers inside, and Draco shouted with surprise before grinding his hips against Harry’s hand. Another finger for too short a time, and Harry deemed his lover ready.

“I deserved the punishment,” Draco admitted, panting. He drew his knees to his chest and exposed his greedy hole to Harry’s discerning gaze.

Harry lubed his cock and watched Draco’s face carefully. He pressed teasingly against Draco’s entrance, and the blond twitched his hips to entice Harry in. “Then do you think you deserve a reward?” Harry asked, pressing in slightly before withdrawing.

“No, but you do,” Draco said, a small smile playing on his lips. “And you’ve never been one to deny yourself, have you?”

Harry laughed breathlessly as he sank slowly into Draco. Harry’s moans were echoed, and when he was completely buried within his lover, he leaned forward to trap Draco’s noises with his mouth. Draco kept trying to make more, but Harry eagerly consumed them.

Unable to keep up the tender lovemaking, Harry began to fuck Draco in earnest, each thrust drawing shouts and curses and proclamations that neither would admit nor deny when the moment was over.

“Please, gods, please, please, Harry, yes, yes,” Draco babbled, and Harry was relieved to hear it because it meant Draco was close and Harry was _close_ , so he grabbed Draco’s cock—punishment be damned—and tugged until Draco shouted and that sought-after warmth splashed both their bellies and chests.

Draco lay panting as Harry worked himself to completion, the look of satisfied abandon on Draco’s sweet face wringing his orgasm from him, and he shouted as though in victory when he filled Draco with his seed. “Yes…” he said sibilantly, kissing Draco solidly. “Perfect.”

Smiling indulgently, Draco pushed Harry gently off of him, but Harry drew Draco into his arms and held him firmly. He didn’t think the blond would run anymore.

“So,” Harry said, hiding a euphoric grin, “wanna be my boyfriend?”

Draco snorted and said, “Ask me properly, Potter!”

Harry wiped the smirk off his face. He kissed Draco feather-lightly: eyelids, brow, pointed nose, chin, lips. Lips. Lips. “Draco Malfoy,” he said in a formal voice imbued with meaning and sincerity, “would you do me the great honour of being my boyfriend?”

Draco smiled beatifically, licking Harry’s lower lip. “I’ll think about it.”

Harry slapped Draco’s tender bum and laughed. Wand quickly in hand, Harry smiled at the anticipation in his… _boyfriend’s_ face. “ _Incarcerous,_ ” he said wickedly. “I’ll give you something to think about.”


End file.
